


Falling In

by orphan_account



Series: the adventures of dave egbert and john strider from that one rp [1]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Kidswap, M/M, New Year's Eve, Underage Drinking, bloodswap, dave egbert - Freeform, guardianswap, john strider - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-03
Updated: 2012-12-03
Packaged: 2017-11-20 04:38:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/581386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Your name is Dave Egbert and you wonder if you'll ever stop lying to yourself about your feelings for your best friend John. Getting drunk with him on New Year's Eve is sure to help. Maybe. Probably not.</p><p>It's only love, baby, that we're falling in.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Falling In

**Author's Note:**

> the continued adventures of dave egbert and john strider from that one rp.
> 
> this one is kind of a precursor to the other one. you don't really need to read them both to know what's going on though. but the other one does allude to the events in this one quite a bit.
> 
> maybe one of these days i'll actually write something substantial about these two instead of just fuel for my shipping. (but either way i don't regret it because i love them a lot and i just want them to kiss and be happy even though they can't right now because dave is stupid)

The water from the tap is just hot enough to be uncomfortable when your hands accidentally brush under it. You find yourself humming as you scrub away at the pot you’re holding. John is beside you, drying the dishes with a towel as you hand them to him. You’ve gotten so used to his presence throughout the past week that you don’t think anything of the soft notes rising out of your throat anymore. He doesn’t seem to mind it, at least.

You hand over the pot and he dries it swiftly. “Hey, Dave, where’s this one go?”

“Oh, uh, the same cabinet as the last one.”

“Alright.”

He moves to put it away, but before you know what you’re doing, one of your arms is slipping around his waist and your face nuzzles into his hair. It was an odd impulse, but it feels nice to have him so close to you. He doesn’t move a muscle for a few moments, but then he relaxes and leans his head on your shoulder.

“Hey, John?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m really glad you’re here.”

He’s quiet for too long and you kind of start to freak out just a little bit. Oh god why did you say that. You know John and you know he hates all that emotional bullshit and this is all just so incredibly stupid. You’re so incredibly stupid. You start to let go but he speaks up again.

“Me too, Egbert.”

You smile and you let him go and he puts the pot away. There’s a strange expression on his face and you wish he weren’t wearing his shades right now so that you could tell what it means. You dry off your hands on the towel. “Hey, my dad’s at a New Year’s party tonight, so we’ve got the place to ourselves. We should do something fun.”

He leans against the counter and shoves his hands in his pockets and raises an eyebrow. He is truly the epitome of cool. “Oh yeah? Like what.”

“Well…” You’re unsure about this next part and you’re kind of surprised your dad even did this anyways but you guess you’re sixteen now and that’s kind of almost an adult. It’s cool that he’s thinking of you as grown up enough to be responsible, and he knows that he wants you to have a fun night especially since John is leaving tomorrow and it will be a long time until you get to see him again and it’s not like you really have any other friends to hang out with. “My dad gave us a bottle of champagne to celebrate with? So I guess we could drink it and like watch some movies or have a Mario Kart tournament or something?”

“Champagne?” He whistles. “Classy.”

You laugh and he smirks a little. “Well, it is generally what people drink on New Year’s.”

“Alright, sounds like a plan to me. Let’s party it up.”

The champagne tastes kind of weird at first, but once you get used to it you actually kind of like it. But it’s gone way faster than you’re expecting it to be, leaving you with a pleasant sort of light feeling to your head.

You’re curled up on the couch with John, and your side is pressed against his, his head is on your shoulder. “Man,” he says. “This is lame. I want to get drunk for real.”

You laugh – no, you don’t laugh. You fucking giggle. And if you were slightly more coherent you’d probably be really embarrassed by it. “I don’t know, I don’t think this is so bad. Are we not drunk right now?”

He tilts his head so that he can raise an eyebrow at you. “Have you ever been drunk before, dude?”

“Uh. No.”

“Okay we need to rectify this. Back to the kitchen.” He stands up and holds his hands out. You take them and let him pull you up. He uses a little too much force and it makes you stumble into him and you laugh again. He lets go of one of your hands but keeps a hold on the other as he drags you back into the kitchen. “Alright, where’s your dad keep the liquor?”

You try to think. “Well, he mostly drinks wine. I think he has a wine rack in his study. And then the rest of it should be in that cabinet?” You point at it and he immediately goes to take a look.

The alcohol is all on the top shelf, and John is kind of short. He has to stand on his toes just to see in. He pulls down a bottle that’s kind of rectangular and glances over the label.

“What is it?”

“Rum.” He gives the bottle a little shake, grinning. “This is the good stuff.”

“My dad will get mad if he notices it’s missing.” Suddenly you’re not so sure about this. Your dad trusts you, and he’s trusting you tonight to be responsible while you and John are home alone. You’re not sure you want to do anything to break that trust.

“He won’t notice. We won’t have that much – we already got a buzz going and it doesn’t take much, anyways.”

You chew on the inside of your lip. He’s giving you that look, you can tell even with his shades in the way, and as much as you want to say no… “Alright fine. But just a little bit.”

His grin is triumphant and after rooting through the cabinets a little longer he manages to locate two shot glasses. He fills them both up, as well as another regular sized glass with Coke from the fridge. He sets the Coke by you. “You’re probably gonna want to drink that after.”

You pick up the tiny shot glass, careful not to spill any, and hesitate to shoot him a nervous look. He smiles reassuringly.

“Just kind of try to pour it down your throat, okay? So you can swallow it all at once.” He picks up his own shot glass and throws his head back and does just that. He lets out a small hiss after, clenching his jaw.

You take a deep breath and try to do it just the way that he did. You bring the glass to your lips, toss the liquid into your mouth and holy shit that is vile. It burns down your throat and splutter a little, managing to dribble some down your chin in the process. You grope for the glass of Coke and chug some. It washes away most of the taste, but some of it still lingers.

“You okay?” John is grinning. You glare at him, but only for a second before you start laughing. He laughs too. “It gets easier with practice.”

“If you say so.” You wipe off your chin with the back of your hand. He just shakes his head in amusement.

You do another shot each and that one surprisingly is a little easier than the first, and you don’t even spill it on yourself. You put all the glasses in the sink, along with your champagne glasses from earlier, and the rum back up on the shelf. By the time you collapse onto the couch again you’re kind of confused about what’s going on but not exactly in a bad way.

The television is still on from before, airing the West Coast re-run of the New Year’s Eve broadcast with Carson Daly. “Hey,” John says, nodding at it. “It’s almost midnight.”

You look at the clock in the corner of the screen. There are about ten minutes left.

You feel a sudden, unexpected wave of sadness. It’s almost January first. John is going home on January first. You’ve just had the most fun week of your whole entire life spending the holidays with your very best friend, and he’s going to be gone again, all the way back down to Texas. And you have no idea when the next time you’ll be able to see him is. You sigh and scoot closer to him, slipping your arms around his waist. You just want him close to you right now.

He immediately begins to pet your hair, and it feels really nice. When he speaks, his voice is soft in a way that you’ve never really heard from him before. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

“I really don’t want you to leave.” You hold onto him a little tighter and shut your eyes. You take a deep breath through your nose, trying to remember everything about him – the way he feels in your arms, the way he smells, the sound of his voice. You don’t want to let go.

“I don’t either.” He brushes your hair away from your forehead and then leans his face against it. You can feel his lips move against your skin when he starts to talk again. “But hey, I’m sure we’ll get to do this again soon, okay? And we’ll still talk online all the time and stuff just like before.”

You nod a little and hope that it’ll be enough. “It’s been a lot of fun. Hanging out and junk.”

You feel his lips curve into a smile against your forehead. “Yeah, it really has been. Even the ice skating.”

You can’t help but laugh at remembering how much he fell, how for a while he was too proud to accept your help. How he finally let you take his hands and guide him as you skated backwards in front of him, mittens holding tight to gloves. “Skating wasn’t so bad, was it?”

“Nah. It was pretty fun once I started getting the hang of it.”

“Good.” You don’t want to move from this spot, but you also kind of want to look at his face now while you have the opportunity. You pull back just enough to do that, and his hands slip from your hair to curl around the sides of your neck. You grin at him and reach up to take off his shades. He smiles back and lets you.

You don’t think you’ll ever quite get over John’s eyes. They’re strikingly red, and while John has claimed that most people find them creepy or demonic, you think they’re beautiful. You carefully fold up his shades and place them on the couch beside you, your eyes never leaving his.

His hands drift from your neck to your face, and his thumbs glide over your cheekbones. “Dave,” he mumbles, and there’s something in his voice and his eyes that’s so open, so desperate, and you’re certain whatever he’s about to say is very important.

You flinch when the people on the television begin to shout. They’re counting backwards from ten. It’s almost midnight now. You turn your head just a little to watch, and you grin and begin to count with them. After a second or two, John does, too.

The ball hits the bottom of the pole and everyone on the screen is yelling and cheering and grabbing each other for kisses. You turn to John, a bright grin on your face. “Happy New Ye–“

He pulls you to him and crushes his mouth to yours.

You’ve never kissed anyone before and you’re not entirely sure how these things work. It’s a little clumsy and his nose bumps against yours and you can feel his breath as he lets out a shaky exhale. He starts to back away but you find yourself following after him, and you tilt your head a little bit more so that your lips can line up better.

He doesn’t move for a brief moment after that, but then he gently takes your bottom lip between both of his, and you have no idea what you’re doing so you’re more than happy to let him lead the way. Your arms drape over his shoulders and your fingers wind themselves into his hair. His chest is pressed against yours and your heart is beating so hard you’re sure that he must be able to feel it.

You’ve spent a long time trying to convince yourself that you’re not gay and you don’t like John like that but if you’re really, truly honest with yourself, you know that you kind of always have. And if you’re really, truly honest with yourself, you’ve wanted him to kiss you like this ever since you first saw him standing in your living room a little over a week ago. Maybe even ever since the first time you talked to him.

His tongue flicks out and glides across your lower lip and you’re not sure if it’s out of surprise or impulse that you part your lips. Either way, John takes advantage of the situation and slips his tongue into your mouth, rubbing it against yours. The feeling is entirely foreign but not completely horrible, and the breath he exhales into your mouth tastes of rum and champagne and something else, something purely John.

You’re trying to keep up with him the best that you can, but there comes a point where you simply can’t breathe anymore. You break away with a small sound and open your eyes, hardly realizing that you’d shut them. You pant as you try to regain your breath. John is grinning wider than you think you’ve ever seen and you give him a shy smile in return.

He lets go of your face and instead carefully removes your glasses, just like you did with his shades a few minutes ago. You can hardly see anything now but that doesn’t prevent you from hearing him mumble, “Your eyes are so fucking pretty it should be illegal.”

You laugh and, on impulse, lean in and kiss him again. It’s just a quick peck, and you kind of miss your mark and end up getting the corner of his mouth instead, but it’s still nice and he seems surprised by it.

He moves closer until he’s sitting in your lap, his legs wrapped around your waist and his head leaning against your shoulder. You hold him tight, and for a long time you sit there in silence, listening to the drone of the television and the soft whoosh of his breath.

It’s almost one when you finally break the silence with a quiet yawn. “John I’m tired,” you say, and you can feel yourself fading fast, the softness the alcohol has brought to the world now weighing heavily on you and all you want is sleep.

“Let’s get you up to bed,” he says, and you don’t even protest as he takes your hand and guides you off the couch even though you’ve been sleeping there all week so that he could use your bed. You stumble up the stairs behind him and yawn again. You don’t think you’ve ever been so exhausted.

He leads you to your room and you automatically start pulling your clothes off, exchanging your jeans for pajama pants and your sweater for a large t-shirt. You crawl into bed and he hovers by the door.

“Night, Dave,” he says, and flicks the light off.

Wait – no. No, this isn’t right.

“John?”

“Yeah?”

“C’mere.”

He walks over and stands next to your bed, trying to figure out what it is that you want. You scoot over and pull back the covers and pat the empty spot next to you. He raises an eyebrow but then you pat the spot again so he crawls into bed with you, still fully clothed. You latch onto him immediately, curling close and tangling your legs with his. He drapes an arm around your waist and tucks his head under your chin.

Much better.

“Good night, John,” you sigh, your face pressed into his hair.

You start to drift off almost immediately, your breathing slow and steady. It isn’t long until you’re carried off by the whispered I love yous on John’s lips, quiet enough that he thinks you don’t hear.


End file.
